2 Wand Fitting

**Hermione**

The door chimes cheerily as it gives a small amount of resistance; pushing it open, I enter Ollivander's. The shop's outside was shabby and worn down but the inside is anything but. The glossy wooden floor and shelves around the room reflect the light coming from the candlelit chandler, making the small shop seem warm and comforting. The old man behind the desk smiles at us warmly; like an old friend.

"Good afternoon," the old man behind the desk greets us in a posh voice as he stands up. Looking around in awe, my eyes are drawn to a rolling ladder leaning against the wall. Following up the ladder, my gaze is met with a pair of cold, large, red eyes. Even as we move to the middle of the room, my eyes remain fixed on her. The German girl sitting on the ladder seemed to be younger than me, but her pale skin and soft white hair gave a different impression. I try to get an insight into her thoughts but the black face mask makes it difficult.

Her eyes seem to be full of wisdom, yet youth lurked in the background. Hollow cheeks cut into her face and, paired with the bags that tightly hug the skin under her eyes, emanate a haunting feeling of danger. Her predatory presence didn't preclude other portions of her presence. Something itched within me to call out to her. It was as if she played me a personal siren song, luring me in like prey. Her eyes meet mine as I look away; a blush spread across my cheeks.

"So little one, what are you here for?" the man asks, his voice bringing me to jump with surprise as he seemingly teleports in front of me. Looking around, I find my parents sitting on a bench behind me.

"Hello, sorry, I'm here to get a wand," I respond, nerves moving my hand to fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist.

"Ah, wand fittings! The first step into true wizardhood, muggle-born or not," he tells me, somehow knowing my worries as he starts stroking his chin. "Catlyn, can you come down here?" His eyes twinkle as his voice moves subtlety warmer. The girl on the ladder slides down to join his side. Her short stature becomes apparent as she just barely reaches my chest.

'Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Catlyn Ollivander. I cannot speak but I assure you I am capable of helping you today,' she writes on a notepad, taken out of her pullover's pocket. Excitement rises in me as my questions become too loud for my brain.

"What's it like being brought up as a wizard? Why are your eyes red? Is the reason why you can't speak because of magic?" I say quickly, slowly inching towards her as her eyes grow cold and dead. I can only imagine a frown forming on her face as she slowly backs away.

"Hermione!" Mom scolds, breaking me out of my curiosity.

"Sorry for that," I apologize, backing away and sitting down on the stool. Instead of responding, Catlyn turns to Mr. Ollivander and makes symbols with her hands. She doesn't seem like that bad of a person, just a little cold.

"You will be doing the wand fitting," he tells her as she stands there for a second. Determination sparks into her eyes as she turns to me. Feeling like a specimen in a jar, I look down in embarrassment.

**Catlyn Ollivander**

I stomp on the ladder, alerting Father as I feel three warm bodies approaching the shop door.

"Good afternoon," Father greets a brown-haired muggle family as they walk into the store. Looking down from the top of the ladder, my eyes are met with three people, a straight black-haired woman, a short brown-haired man, and a frizzy brown-haired girl my age. As she gazes at the store in bewilderment and amazement. Most days I just grab wands for Father, sometimes I get to balance and clean a wand but not often.

"Hello, Mister?" the man, presumably the Father, greets as he looks for a name tag on his chest.

"Ollivander, I assume you're Muggles?" Father reaches out a hand to him after getting out of behind the desk.

"Is it that obvious?" the woman, probably the mom, takes Father's hand and shakes it.

"You get an eye for it after a while," Father responds.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ollivander. I'm Mickel Granger and this is my wife, Jean," they introduce themselves as Father's eyes light up from meeting new people. I don't understand how he's the man that raised me. His personality is the complete opposite of mine, warm, talkative, and an extrovert of all things. Meanwhile, I'd want to stay up here as long as possible until they leave.

My eyes are drawn to the girl as I finally notice her gaze. My eyes lock with her brown ones only for her to look away. Why is she staring at me? Does she already think I'm a vampire? Do I look weird? Have my horrid waves returned?

"Come, come, sit," Father offers the parents as he motions to the bench, saving me from drowning in insecurities once again. The parents take him up on his offer, leaving the girl alone.

"So, why are you here little one?" Father asks the girl, getting her attention.

"Hello, sorry, I'm here to get a wand," she responds, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist.

"Ah, wand fittings! The first step into true wizardhood, muggle-born or not," Father says, knowing that's most Muggleborns' fear. He pauses for a second and gets that look in his eye as if the simulation he just mentally ran went perfectly. He swivels around and looks at me, forming a pit in my stomach. "Catlyn, can you come down here?" his request confirmed my suspicions.

Sliding down the ladder, I hop next to Father and give him a look of annoyance as my mouth can't help but develop a slight pout. I'm once again reminded of my short height, 4'5", as I move closer to the girl. Whipping out my notepad, I write the rehearsed greeting and hand it to the fuzzball. Her eyes light up as she gets this hungry expression on her face like she just saw a person after not eating for so long.

"What's it like being brought up as a wizard? Why are your eyes red? Is the reason why you can't talk because of magic?" With every blur of a word that comes out of her mouth, she inches closer and closer. Already pushing into my personal space before, I inch backward in response.

Why yes stranger! I can't make a sound due to a fucking magic symbol branded onto my chest like I'm some slave! I respond in anger in my head as I slip back into my sea of insecurities.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger scolds the girl as her eyes widen and she takes a step back. My breathing returns to normal as I put a hand to my chest to find my heart racing at the speed of a regular person.

"Sorry for that," Hermione apologises as a blush spreads across her face.

*You're really making me do this, aren't you?* I sign to Father as he nods.

"You'll be doing the wand fitting," Father responds. I've never liked doing wand fittings. I don't know why I just don't like it. It's not like I'm bad at it; wand fittings require you to look into the person and try and find a wand that matches them. Then again like the stereotype I am, I probably hate it because it's the most social part of the job.

'Can you extend your wand arm?' I write to Hermione as she hesitantly raises her right arm. Getting on task, I do the standard measurements and get an estimation of around 10 inches. I've been thinking that trying to deduce the wood type from the person's personality could cut down the time it takes to do a wand fitting.

She doesn't seem to be rude because she didn't care about my feelings, no, she just didn't have the restraint to hold herself back. So she's probably not a Hufflepuff or Slytherin. The quest for knowledge leans toward Ravenclaw but the stupid bravery of getting on a half-vampire's bad side definitely makes her a Gryffindor.

The most common woods for a Gryffindor would be Ebony, Apple, Sycamore, and Vine. She seems to have confidence in herself but she gets shot down easily so not Ebony. She has her charms but I wouldn't call them great so not Apple. I have it narrowed down to Sycamore or Vine. Wait, Vine! I know it's not common but I might as well try.

*Father can you snuff out the candles?* I sign to him once I stop circling her as he raises an eyebrow. Trusting me, he waves his wand and the store grows dark. Scouring the shelves, my eyes fall upon a wand box lightly glowing at the top.

*Can you please grab the stiff 10 and 3/4th inch vine wood wand with a dragon heartstring core?* I sign to Father as a cheeky smile spreads across my face.

*Who's the showoff now?* Father signs back, not wanting to show his snarky side to the customers as the candles light back up. With a flick of his wand, the once glowing box shoots toward me. Catching it, I hand it to Hermione as a mixed expression appears on her face.

Taking the wand, she swishes it around as purple sparks appear on the end of it. As the sparks sprinkle out, the wand case in my hand tugs against my grip.

"That's a 10 ¾" Vinewood, dragon heartstring wand, extremely stiff, a very powerful combination indeed. I'm excited to see the magic you perform with it," Father tells Hermione with genuine enthusiasm. Her eyes light up at the words as she runs to her parents.

"Did you hear that?" Hermione squeaks excitedly to her parents as they move toward us.

"Yes honey, we're very proud of you," Mrs. Granger tells her with a head pat as she turns to face Father, "How much will that be?"

"First I need to administer a trace on the wand," Father tells them, holding a hand out for the wand.

"What's that?" Hermione questions, tilting her head and clutching the wand more tightly.

"It's a magic spell that tells the ministry if an underage wizard uses this want outside of school," Father explains patiently as Hermione gives the wand back to him.

'That will be seven gallons please, the gold ones,' I write to the parents. Mrs. Granger looks through her bag and pulls the money out. Taking the money, I quickly move to put it on the desk before Hermione can talk to me. I mean her wand's wood indicates a hidden depth to her, but I don't want to put up with the surface level at the moment.

"Here you go," Father says, handing the wand back to Hermione, "Do you want directions?"

"That would be great!" Mr. Granger sighs, glad that he brought it up.

"Oh and Catlyn," I turn around to face Father, "You're shift's just about to end, you can end early if you want," he explains as relief, from not having to deal with new people, washes over me.

*Thank you,* I sign to him as I watch Hermione out of the corner of my eye. She's still watching me with a mix of anger and disappointment that paints her face. And she hates me, great! I think to myself as I exit the shop while putting on the white headphones around my neck, letting the music fill my ears.